A Modest Love
by oh-my-marauder
Summary: Harry often found odd things in Sirius' room. An old bottle of firewhiskey, leftover passed notes from classes, etc. What Harry didn't expect to find was a photo of Sirius and a mystery girl from when he was younger. Who's the girl? Why had Sirius never mentioned her? What happened to her? But all Harry knows is what's written on the back of the picture: "All my love xoxo -V.H."


Harry Potter always found a form of solace in Sirius Black's old bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place. The Gryffindor-plastered room was a testimony to a choice that his godfather made, leading him to his father, James Potter. It was a few days before his hearing at the Ministry for casting the Patronus charm, and he had been spending the time between the Burrow and where he currently was now. Hermione and Ron had just gone down to talk with some of the Order Members before they left after their meeting. Harry wanted to talk to Sirius of course, though not for any specific reason. More so to hear stories about his Dad, and the pranks they pulled.

Harry swung his legs off the bed, and moved to stand. His foot caught on an old bottle of Firewhiskey that must have rolled out from underneath the bed after Fred and George's mini-fireworks display, and he blindly grasped the pillow from Sirius' bed in the hopes he wouldn't tumble to the ground. Harry's backside slammed into the floor, and he winced, letting out a soft "bloody hell" at the impact. Harry pushed himself to his feet, mindful of the empty bottle, and rolled it back underneath the bed where,it kind-of-sort-of belonged. He released the pillow from his vice-like grasp.

A small photograph slipped from between the pillow and it's case, and it fluttered to the floor. Harry lazily tossed the pillow back on Sirius' bed, and lifted the picture from the ground. At first, the only thing he saw was the back of the photo. Scrawled in sloppy handwriting were the words:

"_All my love xoxo_

_-V.H."_

A heart encircled the initials. Harry flipped the picture over.

There stood Sirius. A much younger one, of course, probably eighteen or a little older. His face was youthful, alive, and warm, a smile stretching across his young, handsome face. Suddenly, he bent his knees and opened his arms. Snow could be seen falling heavily and landing in mounds. His breaths puffed out in white clouds, and Harry could just see the sign of "The Three Broomsticks". Sirius was in Hogsmeade.

A girl, petite in stature and height, ran into Sirius' arms. Her light-brown hair flew behind her, waving like caramel-colored ribbons. She threw her arms around his neck, and he locked his around her waist. In a swift motion, Sirius lifted the petite girl, and turned before setting her down and placing a kiss on her lips. The girl grinned, and her freckled nose wrinkled with the smile.

Harry's eyes widened. Sirius had never mentioned having a girlfriend before. He watched the repeat of actions: run, jump, lift, turn, kiss; perhaps about three more times before stuffing the picture into his sweatshirt pocket. Harry walked out of Sirius' room, and jogged down the stairs, hoping his godfather hadn't strayed too far.

"Sirius!" Harry called out. The older version of the man in the picture turned, but the grin was all the same. He strode over to his godson.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" Sirius asked pleasantly. Harry fished the picture out from his pocket and showed it to him.

"I, erm, I found it in your room. 'Fell out from your pillow and I was just...wondering who she was." It was awkward to ask your godfather about a relationship, yes, but the curiosity was insatiable.

Sirius sighed, staring down at the picture with a familiar sadness in his eyes. He traced his finger along the picture, a distant smile on his face. He relived the memory as best as he could. The cold, stinging winter air, the smell of her perfume and the taste of her lips. He could practically feel her fine hair tickling his neck.

"Oh," he whispered, "what I would give to see that face again." Sirius seemed so pensive that Harry almost felt guilty for asking about it, for fear it brought up painful memories. "That girl you see there is Violet Hammel. A wonderful person, and far better than I'll ever deserve. We were together for three years before I went to Azkaban. I haven't spoken to her since. Haven't found the courage, really."

Harry studied the picture, and his gaze turned towards the clock. It was just eight o'clock, and he figured that was early enough for a story.

"C-Could you tell me about her?" Harry asked him. Sirius ran his teeth over his bottom lip before nodding, maybe a bit too often for it to be normal, and handed the picture back to Harry.

"I don't see why not," he said, and slung his arm around Harry's shoulders, "Come along, I'll tell you once we sit down. This is a rather long story."

Sirius led Harry into the kitchen, and sat the both of them down at the table. He slid the picture to the center of the table where the two of them could easily see it. He drummed his fingers against the table, releasing a puff of breath. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted.

"Erm," Harry tried to offer some help. The only thing he could think of was the things he always overheard on the telly from the Dursley's living room nowadays. "How did she make you feel?"

There was a brief moment of silence before Sirius spoke.

"When you're a broken individual, make no mistake, the only person who can fix you is yourself. But sometimes, you need someone else to show you that you're worth fixing yourself. That's who Violet was to me. She showed me it was worth it to help myself."

"Hermione said that a violet flower is supposed to stand for modest love or something." Sirius chuckled, and nodded. He glanced at the picture once more, unable to hide his smile as he spoke.

"Yep, that was her alright. Stubborn, impatient, bloody dramatic modest love."


End file.
